


commander fearleader

by gostorain



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clarke is the student body president and like runs everything in the school, F/F, High School AU, Lexa is the head cheerleader and runs the student portion of the school, Lexa loves flustering Clarke because she's always so put together, but Clarke has no idea why the super hot super cool cheerleader is paying so much attention to her, they are so gross & so perfect for each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4795949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gostorain/pseuds/gostorain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Clarke, the politics of high school presidency can be pretty ruthless, especially when it comes to dealing with Lexa, the notorious captain of the Park Central cheerleaders. Their paths invariably cross as they try to rule their respective kingdoms, doing all they can to be the best before they leave everything behind. Too bad this is high school and nothing goes as planned.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>the high school au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. breakfast

“Uh oh, incoming.” 

Clarke looked up at Octavia’s warning. Following her line of sight, she spotted Lexa Woods gliding down the hall, headed straight for her.

At the sound of Octavia shutting her locker, Clarke’s head snapped back to her friend.

“I think you can handle Commander Fearleader on your own,” she said, patting Clarke on the arm. "I gotta get to practice. I ordered the freshmen to fill up the soccer balls and I need to make sure they don’t pop half of them like last time."

“Thanks, O. I hate you.”

“You don’t, but it’s okay. Text me later as confirmation of survival. She looks really fucking mad,” Octavia said with a laugh. She blew Clarke a kiss and hightailed it the opposite direction down the hallway.

Clarke knew exactly why Woods was on a warpath.

She had posted the extra-curricular schedule on the school bulletin just that afternoon, which included how field times would be distributed throughout the week.

The Park Central Grounder cheerleaders had gotten the raw end of the deal, which was kind of on Clarke, but she wasn’t about to admit that to the girl who was quickly making her way towards her. 

Clarke faced her locker, organizing books and papers as Lexa arrived at her side.

“Griffin.”

“Woods.”

“I’m sure you know why I’m here to speak with you.”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“Then there’s no need to waste time. Change the schedule.” Clarke finally turned to look at her. 

Of course Woods looked flawless, even after having morning practice and a full day at school. Makeup understated but perfect, hair in an immaculate ponytail, her little uniform spotless.

Clarke grieved for how she looked. Hair in a messy bun (she didn’t have a chance to wash it last night after a board meeting till 9 and that stupid history paper that she hadn't started), little to no makeup (she’d probably rubbed it all off by now), a loose t-shirt sitting on her shoulders.

Clarke hated her. No one should be that perfect.

“There isn’t much I can do,” Clarke said. Lexa all but growled in her face. Her reputation for scaring people out of the way was not misplaced.

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re student body dictator, aren’t you?”

Clarke glared at her. Lexa rolled her eyes and continued, putting an exasperated hand on the locker next to the blonde’s.

“Just kick the marching band losers and the meatheads on the football team off a little earlier. And the girl’s soccer team doesn’t need to practice every day after school, for fuck’s sake. They are  _awful_.”

At that, Clarke froze for a moment, then continued unpacking.

“You’re talking to the best friend of the captain of that awful team, Woods. Tread lightly.” 

Lexa didn’t even pause to apologize.

"We didn’t get to Nationals last year practicing on Mondays and Fridays for just an hour, Griffin. Give my squad more time or so help me, I’ll set fire to the field so no one gets it.” Lexa’s glare was meant to burn, belittle, break people down to make them easy to step over. 

Clarke was having none of it though.

She dealt with administrators and various adults who believed themselves to be in positions of power on a daily basis. She could deal with Lexa Woods, fear-leader extraordinaire. She sighed.

“Threats won’t help you,  _Commander_. I’m doing the best I can,” she said, putting her books in her locker and grabbing her bag. She shut it loudly and started down the now empty hallway. Lexa followed her.

“It’s not good enough. Your priorities obviously aren’t in order.” 

At that, Clarke whipped around. Her patience was wearing thin (after 2 straight weeks of community board meetings where everyone over the age of 18 was telling her she wasn’t doing a good enough job or  _didn’t have her priorities in order_ ) and this was just the icing on the fucking graduation cake.

“LOOK, I’m sorry, but your squad isn’t number one on my list,” Clarke said, her tone growing more and more exasperated. "I have budget meetings and class sizing and student complaints and teachers breathing down my neck to worry about, so yes, I don’t really care about your squad.”

Her voice started to shake as weeks of stress began climbing up her throat, threatening to spill out from her eyes. She closed them, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead. Lexa remained silent.

"I know I’m head of the extra-curricular scheduling council, but  _for the love of god_ , Woods, please climb off my back. I can’t do much now, not with so many people wanting the same thing.” She looked back up at the girl in front of her, eyes defiant and ready for a fight.

She was met with a small smirk instead. 

“Didn’t know you had that in you, Griffin.”

With a mysterious look, Lexa shouldered her bag and walked past Clarke, tossing a few light words over her shoulder.

“We’ll talk more later, princess.”

The soft squeak of her sneakers echoed from the walls until the click of the metal doors announced her exit.

Clarke was left alone in the hallway, very much confused.

//

The next morning, a cup of steaming hot chocolate and a warm muffin greeted her at her seat in first period.

Thoroughly puzzled (and honestly still half asleep), Clarke picked up the small note that sat under the muffin.

_Princess,_

_My first strategy didn’t work, so I figured I’d try something different. A little birdy told me you don’t drink coffee and shared the location of your seat in Kane’s 1st period. Enjoy your breakfast._

_We’ll talk later,_

_Commander_

The handwriting was small and neat. Clarke blushed deep and red.

//

“Woods.”

Lexa smirked a little at the sound of the voice, but carried on stretching.

She had spotted the blonde walking across the grass just a moment before, looking out of place with her backpack and pile of books tucked under her arm.

“I wasn’t aware you had PE third period, Griffin.” She breathed slowly as she raised herself to stand again and face her.

“You can’t expect to bribe me with breakfast.”

“Bribe? Why, that was just a friendly gift of food.”

Griffin glared at her. She had no idea how to take Lexa, and that’s just the way the brunette wanted it.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Woods, but my hands are tied.”

Lexa contemplated for a moment, watching the girl in front of her for a few beats. She knotted her hands above her head and stretched to one side.

She remembered how exasperated and tired Clarke looked the day before. How instead of taking on that political lilt that used to grate on her ears, her voice sounded worn out and like any other 18 year old who was squeezed dry by all their responsibilities.

She remembered how the fury and fire in Clarke had surprised her, which wasn't easy to do with Lexa Woods.

Truth be told, she was impressed.

Something in her chest still buzzed when she thought about the blonde and their interaction the afternoon before. Lexa would usually label it as annoyance and disgust, but this was something completely different.

It was warmer. Confusing, really.

She breathed out on a three-count, avoiding the magnetic blue eyes.

“I got that from our talk yesterday. But duly noted, Griffin, no bribery.” She shot her a small smile. "I appreciate your visit.”

She stretched a little further, felt her shirt rise off her hip. She saw Griffin’s eyes flick down to the strip of skin.

She saw the intended blush rise on her cheeks, but was surprised to feel one burn on her own.

“Uh well, yeah. That’s all I wanted to say,” Clarke said, pulling her books closer to her.

Lexa nodded once in acknowledgement. She watched as Clarke turned on a heel and marched back towards the school, her signature bun casting waves of light across her hair.

“What the fuck was that?” Lexa stood suddenly at the question.

“What was what?”

“That,” Anya said with a vague wave of her hand. “Whatever that was with President Goody-Two-Shoes.”

“Don’t call her that.”

Lexa was probably more confused at her response than Anya was. Her friend gave her a weird glare, that thing she did with eyes that made Lexa feel like her soul was being poked and prodded.

Anya’s face switched suddenly, an all-knowing look that glittered above a smirk.

“Should I start calling you First Lady Lexa?”

“Shut up, Anya,” she said, stretching down to her feet to hide her burning cheeks.

“Will your inauguration be at prom? Does this mean I should go?” 

“Anya, I swear.”

“Or is this more of a Monica Lewinsky situation? Would you like to initiate sexual relations?”

“That’s it you’re off the team.”

“So it’s the first one. Yes ma'am, First Lady.”

//

Octavia was giving her weird looks and it was making it hard to digest her sandwich. She finally plopped her lunch down and turned to her friend.

“Alright, O, what is it?”

Octavia continued to munch on her chips, eyeing her best friend.

“What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing. It was a painfully normal Tuesday.”

Octavia’s eyes squinted a little more.

“Then why did Commander Bitch ask me about your breakfast habits and where you sit in first period?”

Clarke froze for a second, but she tried to play it off.

“Don’t call her that.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, that was something. That was definitely something.”

Clarke huffed, grabbing her sandwich again.

“She’s trying to bribe me into giving her squad more field time. It’s nothing.”

But Clarke knew it was something.

//

The cups of hot chocolate and muffins continued.

She and Lexa started saying hello to each other in the hallways.

Clarke enjoyed her mornings.

//

“Are we going to acknowledge the fact that the captain of the cheerleaders has been bringing you breakfast every morning for the past week?”

Clarke didn’t look up from her textbook.

“No, we are not.”

Octavia threw her head back in exasperation. She hated studying in the library, but this was her best friend’s hideaway when she was stressed so there was no avoiding it.

“Clarke, the frigid bitch purposely sought out me to ask for details about your life. To buy you a heartfelt, caring breakfast. That she has brought  _everyday for the past week_ ,” Octavia whispered furiously.

“O, if you hate it so much, why don’t you go find her and tell her about it?” Clarke said nonchalantly as she scanned the pages for what seemed like the 20th time. She was not feeling nonchalant about the topic whatsoever, but anything she showed would only fuel Octavia more.

“I don’t hate it, Clarke. I’m just curious that’s all.” She fell silent, sneaking glances at her friend over her book.

Clarke sighed.

“I’ll talk to her, O.”

//

“Woods.”

Clarke was a vision of confidence as she approached Lexa. She sat alone at a bench outside during free period. 

“Hello, Clarke.”

At that, she faltered.

She’d never heard Lexa actually say her first name before.

“I-I uh, wanted to thank you for breakfast this week,” Clarke said, all awkward and standing and so  _Clarke_ compared to elegant, perfect Lexa who sat with her tan legs crossed and her hands cradling a book in the sun. "I usually never eat in the mornings."

Lexa looked up at her, eyebrows raised and a small smile gracing her face.

“I was wondering how long it’d take for your good manners to take over.”

“I didn’t really know how to approach it.”

“I’m a human being, not a rabid dog.”

“I know, I know, but like, it’s…strange?”

At that, Lexa’s eyes steeled and she slammed her book shut.

“Strange that I’m capable of doing something nice?”

She pushed herself to stand abruptly but Clarke’s hand shot out to stop her.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant.”

Lexa didn’t look up. Clarke sat down next to her instead.

“It’s just. Don’t we hate each other?”

“I don’t hate you.” Lexa said plainly. Clarke’s eyes widened, but she continued to stare forward.

“I don’t hate your food.” Lexa went to stand again, but Clarke grabbed her hand.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I have this awful habit of making jokes at the worst times,” Clarke apologized.

“You have awful timing, Clarke.” Lexa leaned back against the bench, relaxing with her eyes towards the sky.

Clarke was still holding Lexa's hand. She let it go and tangled her own in her lap.

“I do. I’m kinda bad with people.”

“That’s not what someone wants to hear from their president.”

“Good thing you didn’t vote for me then,” Clarke said with a laugh.

“Actually, I did.” Clarke looked at Lexa in surprise, but Lexa’s eyes didn’t meet hers.

They fell into silence. Muted chatter and far off birds peppered the quiet. Clarke fidgeted with words she wanted to say.

“Really though. Thank you for the breakfast. You didn’t have to.”

“No, I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

“So what does this mean?”

“We don’t hate each other. I voted for you. You like me in my uniform.”

Clarke immediately blushed and sputtered to defend herself, but Lexa continued.

“We can start with calling each other by our first names.”

She turned to face Clarke.

“Then maybe, if the names aren't too painful, you can return the favor with lunch sometime.”

They stared at each other. Lexa waiting for some sign to either retract her offer or continue this weird hope that had implanted itself just a week before.

Clarke faced the sky, eyes closed and up towards the sun.

“Alright, Lexa.” She tried the name out and was not surprised at all when it rolled off her tongue, sweet and soft.

Knowing Clarke wouldn’t see, Lexa made no attempt to hide her smile.


	2. lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story's been swirling around in my head for a while & I finally wrote it. enjoy :)

The storm known as senior year came in wakes—days when everything seemed to be happening at the same time, was due at the same time, when Clarke felt like she had to be everywhere at once.

But then, there were days that felt like peace. Like happiness and a taste of what was out there, beyond the walls lined with flyers for after-school help and lockers that seemed to stretch as far as the eye can see. There were days when there weren’t student council hearings or appointments with board members or 15 pages on 19th century French literature due in too little time.

Those were the days that Clarke lived for.

The afternoon bell rang and echoed in the quiet of the school, signaling the start of lunch hour. Almost immediately, the students poured out of the doors and into the hallway at an alarming pace, swarming in streams as they shrugged their backpacks higher on their shoulders and shuffled their way with the organized mess of the crowd.

Clarke peered down the hallway as she stepped out of her Global History class, tiredly eyeing the slow procession of students that filled the hall to the brim. With a sigh, she spotted an opening and merged into the throng to make her way towards her locker.

She was sleepy, tired to the bone after a week of non-stop meetings and a teenage–type of diplomacy that was entirely too exhausting for her. She had handed in two papers and an extended project, completed her calculus homework for the weekend and read the countless chapters assigned by her teachers. Reached every deadline that was set for her student council and made sure all her t’s were crossed and i’s were dotted. With the weekend in reach and every box in her checklist ticked off and her schedule empty for the first time in ages, she felt no weight on her shoulders.

She had nothing to do for the next three days and _god,_ it felt good.

Clarke walked slowly down the hallway with her bag on one shoulder and her arms crossed against her chest. All she had to do was survive two more periods and she was home-free. She blew at a stray lock of hair that had slipped out of her bun and sighed as she finally reached her locker. She paused for a second with her hand on the knob of her combination lock, closing her eyes and drowning out the loud chatter around her just for a moment.

“This probably isn’t the best place to take a nap.”

Clarke’s eyes opened immediately at the sound of the voice, her heart rate suddenly picking up and a surprised buzz running over her skin.

“Very funny, Lexa.”

She turned and smiled lightly at the cheerleader, doing her best to swallow the heartbeat that had jumped up to her throat back down to her chest. A corner of Lexa’s mouth raised in a small, teasing smirk, something she did very often and very well from what Clarke had experienced over the last few weeks.

She clicked her lock open and began switching out the binders and folders in her backpack, her eyes never leaving Lexa’s.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy for a weekend,” she said, a small sigh escaping from her lips. “Just two hours till freedom.”

Lexa chuckled and nodded in agreement. Clarke vaguely remembered her sharing that she didn’t have practice that afternoon and that her Saturday mornings had been postponed due to maintenance work on the fields.

“Y’know it kinda weirds me out when you do that.”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrowed in response as she zipped her backpack closed and slammed her locker shut.

“When I do what?” she asked. Lexa nodded a chin at Clarke’s hands.

“Sometimes, you do things without realizing and it’s like you’re on autopilot. You do exactly what you need to do with zero attention to it.” Her hands gestured vaguely and Clarke just shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Tell me,” Lexa said, leaning in dramatically, “are you a robot?” Clarke laughed once, loud and sudden and the cheerleader grinned wide. She turned to lead them down the hallway that had emptied just as fast as it had overflowed, the two girls meandering in the wide berth of the walls lined with lockers.

“Considering how I’m pretty sure my routine and schedules are embedded in my _DNA_ at this point, I probably am a robot,” Clarke deadpanned. It was true—she could make it from morning to night with her eyes closed at that point.

Lexa hummed in thought, and Clarke was surprised at the rush of familiarity that accompanied the sound.

“Prettiest robot I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing,” she said with a wink. Clarke rolled her eyes, but felt the telltale burn of heat in her chest. Despite how solemn everyone thought she was, she was always teasing Clarke, who could only respond to her shameless flirting with sarcasm.

(Clarke always told herself that Lexa was just kidding. That they were just friends.)

She was quiet as she considered the last few weeks. Lexa had quickly become a constant in her days, a source of ease and fun and something exciting that kept the repetitive days from blending together.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like being student body president or even school itself. It was just—

She was ready to get out of there.

Ready for the world and college and finding herself and leaving the bubble that seemed to encase their small town.

But for now, she had responsibilities and expectations and things she had to finish and accomplish.

“Okay, I’ve had enough of this,” Lexa said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Clarke snapped out of her daze in surprise.

“What?”

“This whole brooding, quiet, contemplative deal doesn’t suit you. That’s my thing,” She was only half-joking, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” she teased. Lexa glared at her, but it didn’t last long. Clarke sighed again and looked down at the floor, rubbing a tired hand behind her neck.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, “it’s just been a rough week.” She tried to smile again, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes. Lexa observed her softly, her lips pursing in thought.

Clarke suddenly felt her chest pulse hard and slow in affection for the girl in front of her. It was unexpected and overwhelming—such a surprise that Clarke wondered for a moment if she was having a heart attack.

Lexa, who in several weeks had managed to seamlessly assimilate herself into the busy mess that was Clarke’s life. Lexa, who found her between classes and brought her the occasional breakfast and texted her at all hours with complaints, with jokes, with serious questions.

Lexa, who everyone referred to as “The Commander” for her quiet intimidation, her piercing eyes, her aversion to the pointless interests that entertained all their peers.

Yes, she was serious for someone their age, but Clarke had grown to appreciate it. Respect it even. Lexa was someone who knew what she wanted and would do what she could to get it.

“New plan,” Lexa said, breaking Clarke out of her train of thought yet again. “We’re busting out of this joint.”

She grabbed Clarke’s hand suddenly, making a sharp left towards the parking lot instead of the cafeteria.

“What’re you—we can’t—“ Clarke sputtered in surprise, barely processing the meaning behind the words. But her feet followed the rapid pace of Lexa’s and she tried not to notice how warm her hand was in hers.

Lexa turned back slightly, throwing a wicked smirk in her direction.

“We’re gonna be a little bad. Get you out of your routine, burn it out of your DNA.”

Clarke blinked a few times at her words, feeling the expected tendrils of doubt and obligation curling in her chest.

She felt the words in the back of her mouth. _I can’t_ and _I’m the student body president_ and _we’ll get in trouble_.

But she also felt a strange desire building—to forget about the weight of her title and her responsibilities and just be Clarke for a little bit. A girl who didn’t owe her time and energy to a building full of people, a girl who wasn’t thinking about her future and her grades and the piece of paper she’d be receiving in a few months’ time.

As Lexa reached the big, metal doors that led outside, she turned back to face her. But before she could say anything, Clarke raised her chin defiantly and looked her straight in the eyes.

“Let’s do it.”

Lexa’s eyebrows raised in surprise, her lips parting slightly in a small “o”.

It was Clarke’s turn to smirk.

“Don’t be so shocked, Commander,” she said as she pushed one of the doors wide open. “Maybe I have a naughty side, too.”

The words were heavy and foreign on her tongue, but she knew it was worth it when she saw Lexa’s eyes darken to a forest green she had never seen before.

Clarke felt Lexa’s reaction in her bones and wondered secretly if this was why Lexa loved to fluster her.

She stared to Lexa’s eyes, her fingers itching for her watercolors, but instead she committed the color to memory for a later time.

Much to her credit, Lexa recovered quickly and cleared her throat. A corner of her lips raised in a signature half-smile and she lifted an open palm in front of Clarke.

“Keys, please.”

It was Clarke’s turn to look surprised.

“ _You_ want to drive _my_ car?”

“Look, princess, if I’m the one who devised this master plan, I think I’d have to drive the getaway car.” She poked once at Clarke’s shoulder and opened her palm again, shaking it emphatically. She blinked once.

The worry in Clarke’s gut grew stronger with every passing second and her eyes scanned nervously down the hallway for people who would catch them in the act of truancy. Without another thought, she dropped the keys in Lexa’s hand.

Lexa grinned at her, wide and bright and Clarke was momentarily blindsided by it. She felt something warm replace the concern inside her and breathed deep as her heart jumped to her throat again.

Huh.

Lexa grabbed her hand again and pulled her through the doors, running towards the lot filled with cars.

Clouds swirled above them, leaving the day darker than the usual California sunshine. Clarke wondered for a moment if it’d rain, but her attention was turned to their breakneck pace.

Lexa’s legs were long and she was fast, so Clarke—who was built with a mind for history and long meetings and was not athletic _at all_ —struggled to keep up with her.

“Jesus, Lex,” she rasped, “slow down! I’m going to trip.”

Lexa either didn't hear her or pretended not to because she was entirely focused on repeatedly clicking the lock button on Clarke’s key fob in search of her car.

“Where did you park?” she asked quickly, stopping for a moment.

“Front row. Second spot from the left.” Lexa took off in a dead sprint again and Clarke sighed as she was pulled along.

“Why,” she asked, not even trying to hide her frustration, “are you _running so fast_?” Lexa didn’t look back as she replied.

“The lot monitor is on a 15-minute break that ends any second. We have a very small window to get out of here without getting caught.”

Suddenly, a sharp beep rang out among the cars and Lexa let out a small “oh” in victory. She dropped Clarke’s hand as they neared her car and Clarke tried not to miss the feeling of the tight, warm grip.

“You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me.”

Lexa’s shocked words are muttered in almost holy reverence as they got to the car. Clarke swallowed a certain self-conscious embarrassment that came with the knowledge of her family’s money and tried valiantly to play it cool.

“C’mon, get in. You said we don’t have much time.”

“Clarke, you have a _Porsche._ ”

“Yeah. Uh, yes I do.” She approached the passenger door and watched as Lexa ran a loving hand over the top. She looked to Clarke to say something, but spotted her desire to avoid the topic. Instead, she pulled the door open.

“Right, let’s get out of here.”

Clarke noticed how quickly she had dropped it and was quietly grateful. She didn’t like making a big deal about the fact that her family was loaded. She did her best to make it a non-issue, keep it from being a part of her identity.

They both slid in and buckled up, settling into the nervous energy that could only come from high schoolers skipping school on a quiet afternoon.

Lexa started the car and revved the engine, eliciting a laugh from Clarke and a wicked smile from her own lips. She threw the car in reverse and drove smoothly out of the lot.

There was no one out there and the escape was uneventful, but Clarke still felt the buzz of energy that accompanied breaking the rules.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going or am I being kidnapped?” Clarke asked as they drove down the street leading out of their school.

“I’ve settled on keeping it a secret,” Lexa said. She turned slightly to Clarke, her eyes never leaving the road. “That way if you’re ever interrogated, you won’t have to lie.”

“Ah.” Clarke smiled. “So this _is_ a kidnapping.”

Lexa’s lips pursed in mock thought, her expression serious as she considered her answer.

“I think this is more like a breakout.” Lexa smiled too. “Maybe even a rescue.”

Clarke felt her eyes soften and she turned to look out the window. Trees and houses passed in steady succession and Clarke settled into the feeling of letting someone else take the wheel for once, in every definition.

“I hope this rescue has lunch on the agenda because I’m pretty hungry.”

Lexa laughed, a small one that resounded from deep in her chest and Clarke smiled, happy in her ability to coax it out of her when she wanted.

“I know a place we can go,” she said. Clarke watched as she sat lower in the seat, a graceful hand resting on top of the wheel and an elbow folded against the window.

“Oh, is this a secret too?” Her fingers tapped on the window in a steady rhythm. It was strange in the passenger seat. Everything looked different. (Even Lexa.)

“Kind of, but not really,” she answered. Her eyes stayed straight ahead of them, which gave Clarke the chance to look at her with calculating eyes, with artist’s eyes that couldn’t get enough.

“How is it kind of a secret?”

“Because,” Lexa said with a smile, “we’re already here.” She pulled the car into a gentle stop and parked on the street.

Clarke looked out the window, trying to figure out where they were so soon. Lexa had brought them to a small brick building with black awnings and a bright white sign that seemed to politely ask for attention.

**Dough-lis**

She heard Lexa open her door and get out and Clarke quietly followed her, curious and intrigued about the sure way that Lexa walked up to the front of the shop.

“C’mon,” Lexa said, waving her in as she pulled the door open with a small _ding_ , “I promise it’s good.”

Clarke looked up again at the sign above them again, squinting slightly against the kind of light that filters through a cloudy sky, before entering the store. She was immediately hit with a wall of heat, of smells and a warm feeling that seemed to permeate the very air.

It was a bakery.

Clarke took careful steps as she turned in a small circle, her eyes wide as she took in everything. Stained wood flooring and red bricks walls that stood high around them. Old wood shelves with baskets filled with loaves and rolls and bagels and muffins and everything else she could think of. A spotless white counter with glass display cases and a giant espresso machine quietly sputtering away.

It smelled like heaven in a hand-basket and Clarke felt her stomach grumble in answer.

Lexa smiled when she heard it.

“I know it’s not somewhere you’d usually go for lunch but the sandwiches are pretty amazing,” she said. She placed a warm hand on Clarke’s lower back to lead her towards the register and it somehow both grounded her and scattered her brain to twelve different points in the universe.

Clarke cleared her throat and raised her chin towards the chalkboard menu above them.

“Any recommendations?” she asked. Lexa hummed in thought and Clarke turned to look at her.

She was suddenly aware of every facet of her senses in that moment. The soft coffeehouse jazz that filtered through the speakers. The yellow lighting that seemed to make Lexa’s hair a brighter shade of brown. The elegant curves and lines of her profile. The hand still resting on Clarke’s back that blazed and buzzed through her shirt.

“I love the avocado BLT on sourdough,” Lexa said, snapping Clarke back into focus. “Sourdough’s my favorite though, so.” She trailed off almost sheepishly and Clarke couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ll try it.” A smile matched her own.

There wasn’t anyone at the counter to take their order. They heard someone bustling behind the brick wall in what she assumed to be the kitchen and Clarke had expected them to just wait patiently, but she was surprised when Lexa shouted suddenly.

“Uncle Gus!”

_Uncle?_

She heard something heavy clatter hard against a table and a quiet curse. There was a quick shuffling of feet and suddenly a behemoth of a man rounded the corner and took up almost half the counter.

“Jesus, Lex, you can’t scare me like that. I almost dropped my favorite pastry mixer,” he said, wiping his hands on an already flour-stained apron.

“Sorry,” Lexa answered, shooting Clarke a small smirk. Gus just shook his head and noticed the blonde standing next to his niece. He looked at her for a beat before a look of recognition sparked in his eyes.

“And you must be the infamous Clarke Griffin,” he said as a wicked grin that could only be described as “hereditary” grew slowly on his face. She turned to Lexa who was very pointedly glaring at her uncle and avoiding Clarke’s gaze. Instead of thinking too much about it, she smiled and stuck out a hand across the register.

“Not famous at all, but still pleased to meet you,” she offered. Gus laughed and shook it, completely unabashed about the flour that now coated Clarke’s hand.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, earning a harsh sputter from Lexa and just slightly widened eyes from Clarke.

“Oh really?”

“This girl doesn’t shut up about you.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Lexa blurted, “how about we order food and forget this conversation.”

Clarke chuckled, both emboldened by the discovery of this interesting fact and on fire because of it. Gus smirked at Lexa and Clarke was struck by how much they resembled each other. She could see the waves of her brown hair in his, the deep set of a left dimple, the shade of green that reflected the light. This was family and from the way they stood across from each other, Clarke knew it was love.

“Alright pipsqueak,” he said, leaning both hands against the counter, “what’ll it be?”

“Two avocado BLTs on sourdough, please,” Clarke answered. She said it before Lexa even opened her mouth and could feel her smile next to her. Gus nodded.

“Two Lexas, coming right up.” He grabbed a loaf from the wall behind him and disappeared around the corner again.

The two girls stood in silence for a few beats as parts of the short conversation caught up with them, existed between them. But as it had for the past several weeks, they swallowed the possibilities down and moved on, as always. Lexa cleared her throat again.

“Are you thirsty?” she asked. Clarke nodded thoughtfully, but didn’t want to share why her throat was strangely dry.

Lexa hopped over the counter between the glass cases and the register in one smooth motion and stood proudly in front of the espresso machine. Clarke just rolled her eyes at the display but quietly loved it.

She watched as Lexa pressed several buttons and started up their drinks, the hissing and whirring filling the quiet that sat between them.

She took the time to take slow steps around the bakery, to admire the how homey it was, how warm and safe it felt. The whole place looked like it was owned with love and care.

Careful fingertips traced the edges of old tables and chairs and admiring eyes followed the blonde as she meandered through the shop.

“Ladies,” a deep voice called from the kitchen, “would you mind if you ate back here?” Gus’s head poked out from behind the back wall. “I need someone to watch the oven while I run out to make a delivery.”

She turned to look at Lexa who raised her eyebrows in question. Clarke nodded once with a small smile.

“Yeah, one sec,” Lexa yelled. She lifted two mugs in her hand and nodded her head towards the kitchen at Clarke.

Clarke eyed the counter warily, thinking back to how Lexa vaulted over it. She mentally prepared herself to do her best impression of the feat of athleticism, but stopped when Lexa stepped close and swung the wooden top up and open.

_Oh._

Lexa smirked at her and Clarke rolled her eyes.

“You enjoyed the little panic attack I had, didn't you,” she said as she walked through.

“Oh no, not at all.” The amusement was clear in her tone. “I know by now that physical activity is more of my specialty.”

Clarke shoved her shoulder, but immediately retracted her hand when she remembered the two steaming mugs in Lexa’s hands.

Of course, not a drop was spilled. Clarke scoffed.

“I change my mind. Between us, _you’re_ the robot.”

“My feelings and soul resent that statement.”

The two girls laughed as they rounded the corner into the kitchen and Clarke couldn't help but look around in amazement.

It was impressive really.

Giant industrial ovens lined the right wall while the rest of the room was taken up by metal tables and shelves, all stacked high with ingredients and cooking tools. Mixers and bowls and pans of dough and bread in all stages of baking filled the tables, except one.

In the very middle of the warm room was a smaller table very different from the rest—two plates with their sandwiches and a small candle between them sat neatly on the shiny surface. Clarke chuckled, but Lexa blushed hard and deep.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Let’s eat.”

The sound of chairs scratching against the floor echoed against the walls and both girls settled into the meal. It was nice, really. They ate and talked and it was easy. Lexa made Clarke laugh with stories of Gus’s baking lessons when she was little. Him teaching her how to knead dough, to cut pastries and bake almost as good as him when she could barely see over the tall metal tables. Clarke learned how Lexa’s eponymous sandwich had come into being, how proud she was of her uncle for growing the small business, for raising her.

“Okay,” Clarke said, leaning back in her chair, “that was amazing.” She wiped her mouth with the back of a hand as she swallowed the last bite.

A slow smile grew on Lexa’s face.

“I mean I’m pretty great, so my sandwich obviously has to live up to its namesake.”

“Yeah, let’s keep that ego in check, Woods.”

Lexa laughed and Clarke couldn’t help but join her. She watched as Lexa’s eyes caught hers, roamed down her face and rested somewhere south of her nose. Her breath hitched and she hoped the dark green eyes across from her hadn’t noticed.

Lexa’s eyebrows furrowed and she moved forward a millionth of an inch. Clarke caught the tiny movement and knew that there was a valiant debate brawling inside her, a decision she was weighing.

In the end, she leaned forward across the table, standing slightly off her chair and reaching a shy hand towards Clarke’s face.

“You, uh, have some flour right here—“ She rubbed a small spot on her chin gently, wiping it away. Clarke felt her thumb brush against her bottom lip, saw her eyes never leave it, watched as Lexa’s own moved as her mouth opened a little in concentration.

“Oh.” The word was entirely soft and small and slipped out of Clarke disguised as a breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re, uh— you’re welcome.”

Lexa sat back down then and cleared her throat. Clarke fidgeted in her chair, suddenly very aware that they were alone, together.

The quiet in the kitchen was deafening, but so was the sudden thundering in her chest. It felt like a transition, an overwhelming shift in the air between them.

She wondered and worried for a moment that Lexa could hear her heartbeat from across the small table. Clarke could feel it pulse against her skin, in her fingertips, under the spot on her chin Lexa had just touched—she felt it everywhere and she wouldn’t be surprised if Lexa could hear it echo against the walls of the room.

The silence was heavy. It was laced with something that stirred underneath the neat and careful line that was their friendship.

 _Friendship_ , Clarke thought. _What a dull word._

She watched Lexa as her right hand toyed with the edge of her plate. She watched as that line—that small crease on her forehead that told her Lexa was thinking too hard about something important—appeared and flickered slightly in the dancing light of the small candle between them. There was a hard press to her lips, a look in her eyes that was a touch too serious.

All of a sudden, Lexa shifted to sit tall in her seat, her hands planted flat on the table in front of her. She leaned forward, her eyes looking straight into Clarke’s. She looked determined and in control and as if she was about to do something important and Clarke felt her heart race even faster.

“Clarke, I—“

“Hey, girls! I’m back!”

Gus thundered through the back door and both girls jumped slightly as the fragile feeling between them was shattered.

He walked in with two giant bags of flour thrown over each shoulder, a big smile on his face.

“How was lu—“ he froze as he took in the scene, the lingering tension from just a second ago still heavy in the air and the two girls very obviously avoiding each other’s eyes. He cursed quietly and threw the bags down on the floor right where he stood.

“You know, I forgot something in the van. I’ll just go back and…leave,” he said, careful and almost apologetic. But before he could take a step, Lexa stood abruptly. The harsh scraping of the chair against the floor woke Clarke from her stupor and she looked at Lexa in surprise.

“It’s fine. We’re going to go now,” she said, monotone and all business. Clarke recognized the tone and it made the confusion in her swirl a little more. It was the voice Lexa used during the athletic council meetings once a month, the voice she used when she was debating issues with teammates, when she needed to be in control of her emotions.

Gus looked at her for a beat before nodding once. Lexa stepped out of her seat and pushed the chair in before leaving the kitchen with broad strides. It took Clarke a moment before she gathered herself, swept up her feelings into their usual box and stood from her seat.

“Thank you for lunch,” she said, approaching Gus. She stuck out a hand, but Gus pulled her in to envelop her in a warm hug. When they separated, he had an even warmer smile on his face.

“You’re welcome, Clarke. It was nice to finally match a face to a name I hear so often.”

Clarke could feel the blush rising up her neck and did her best to fight it down.

“She can’t talk about me that often.”

“You’d be surprised how much that girl can talk. And eat,” he said with a chuckle. “But she could do with a little variety. Loves having the same thing all the time.”

“No way?” Clarke said, a little laugh escaping her.

“Yeah, why do you think I have a sandwich named after her? Hell, she’s had the same breakfast almost everyday for the past month.” He leaned in a little closer towards her, as if sharing a secret. “If she asks for hot chocolate and a muffin one more time, I’m hosting an intervention.”

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat when the words processed, but she tried not to let it show. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but what surprised her was the overwhelming affection that spread through her chest. She hummed in thought, in considering the implications, weighing the options and possibilities and all that came with knowing that there was something between her and the cheerleader.

She nodded to herself, as if confirming, acknowledging, finalizing a decision. She looked up to Gus with a small smile.

“Thank you, Gus. It was really nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Don’t be a stranger.”

He waved as she turned to leave. She was deep in thought as she rounded the corner and almost missed that Lexa had carefully left the counter swung up and open for her.

Clarke spotted her leaning against her car, sitting slightly against the hood, ankles crossed, head down with eyes staring at the sidewalk in thought.

She looked perfect.

But Clarke pushed _those_ thoughts aside and exited the warmth of the bakery, gasping a little as the brisk wind of the oncoming storm greeted her.

Lexa looked up when the bell on the door _dinged_. Her eyes were just as stormy as the sky above them and once again, Clarke wondered what she was so conflicted about. But in a flash, that look in her eyes was gone and Lexa stood tall, chin raised and expression clear.

“I have one more place I want to take you,” she stated, all business. She faltered then. “If that's okay with you.”

Clarke nodded. The two moved to their sides of the car and got in. They were quiet as the doors slammed closed, as their seat belts _clicked_ and as Lexa started the car. She pulled out into the street, smooth and slow, and Clarke watched her from the corner of her eye—one hand gripped the wheel while the other was nestled deep in her hair, eyes trained on the road.

The lingering tension from their moment during lunch was still palpable, and neither knew what to do with it. Instead, they settled into the silence, because it was Clarke and it was Lexa and if the two of them together wasn't comfort, they didn't know what was.

Clarke eyelids began to feel heavy with the low hum of the engine and the warm weight of a full stomach. She rested her head back against the seat, watching the blur of colors outside her window. Lexa’s voice was soft when she spoke.

“You can sleep, Clarke. It’ll take a little bit to get there.”

Clarke hummed in response, in gratitude for her understanding.

“Thank you, Lexa.” The words were slurred and barely fell out of Clarke’s lips. Being away from school seemed to pull her out of the state of constant energy she lived in and she was just _so tired_.

She was on the brink of falling asleep when she heard the quiet words next to her.

“Anything for you.”

//

Despite how lightly she slept, Clarke dreamt.

It was a mess of quick moments. Short scenes that all blended together. There were colors—bright reds like uniforms and dark greens like eyes that she had memorized—and a jumble of sounds and feelings that were warm and sweet and something Clarke was both running towards and away from.

She heard Lexa’s voice before she felt her hand gently shaking her leg.

“Clarke?” she said quietly, “we’re here.”

Her voice was soft, but insistent and excited. That was what woke Clarke up, what got her to rub her eyes awake and sit up in her seat. She looked out the windshield and couldn’t help a small chuckle.

“You brought me to the beach?”

Lexa’s answering smile was so genuine that Clarke felt her heart squeeze.

“I—I figured you’d want to go somewhere quiet and away from people. And since Californians probably melt in contact with rain, I knew the beach would be pretty empty and—“

Clarke realized with a start that Lexa was nervous. She was rambling and it was new to Clarke who had only known her to be the vision of collected calm.

“Lexa,” she said, placing a hand on the restless fingers that fiddled with the edge of the red skirt that Clarke saw in her dreams. “Thank you.”

Lexa swallowed the rest of her words and smiled softly at her. She moved suddenly then, as if waking from a stupor and threw her car door open, letting in a gust that smelled, _felt_ like the ocean.

Clarke opened her door to stand and breathe in the cool breeze that only existed at the coast. She turned and spotted Lexa, who had already pulled her shoes off and was walking towards the waves.

Her brown hair whipped around her, her back straight from years of dance and cheer practice that had molded itself into Lexa’s very bones. She stood like a queen before the ocean, as if she owned every drop, every crest and crash of water and Clarke could only watch in wonder.

The wind and the sea swirled and raged around Lexa, but she stood like an anchor too proud to give into everything around her.

It was perfect actually, because it was exactly what Lexa had become to Clarke.

An anchor.  

Clarke took slow steps towards the girl, one hand holding her sneakers and the other dug into the back pocket of her jeans. She approached carefully, a part of her not wanting to disturb the bubble of peace that seemed to exist around Lexa.

“You look like Poseidon right now,” Clarke yelled through the wind.

A small smile broke through the calm on Lexa’s face and Clarke couldn’t help but answer with her own.

“I feel like Poseidon.” Her voice was so loud and so quiet at the same time. Buried in the sounds around them, but everywhere to Clarke because she was grasping for her voice. “Who does that make you?”

Clarke shrugged, her hand coming out of her pocket to hold her hair back in its frenzy.

“Does Poseidon have a nerdy friend?” She sighed. “I’m not too fond of having a lot of power.”

“You’re a god if I’ve ever known one, Clarke.”

Lexa turned to Clarke with a teasing smile, but, again, her eyes were a touch too serious to complete the picture.

She observed the tired curve of Clarke’s shoulders and nodded to herself once, as if deciding something. She pulled the jacket off her shoulders and laid it on the sand behind them, plopping down and patting the other half of the makeshift blanket for Clarke to sit on.

Clarke carefully folded herself down, bringing her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

They sat in the kind of silence that existed when storms roll into oceans, when there was so much and so little at the same time.

“Look at us,” Clarke said, her eyes out towards the horizon, “two gods far and away from the lands they rule.”

“Just Clarke and just Lexa.”

Something in her tone made Clarke turn to look at her. Lexa’s profile was a perfect outline in the whitish-grey of the clouds.

Clarke knew the little line that emerged on Lexa’s forehead when she was thinking too hard about something important, like schoolwork or an exam or her team’s practice schedule for the afternoon. That she hid behind a carefully constructed expression of uncaring distaste at school, but that it fell away when it was just the two of them. That her mouth rarely gave anything away besides a smile or a smirk.

Clarke had somehow become intimately aware of the subtle changes in Lexa’s expressions, in how she was unreadable but how her eyes were the clue, the key to her mind.

She had been watching and observing Lexa, trying to decipher her. To learn and know and understand why and how she had implanted herself right in the center of Clarke’s chest without her realizing.

She was good at that sort of thing—analyzing, studying, memorizing. But right then, Clarke could not figure out what Lexa was thinking for the life of her.

Clarke wanted to know, but she knew Lexa. She knew that Lexa would speak her mind when she was ready. So instead, she turned back to the water and felt the wind skim her skin and dance in her hair.

They sat like that for a while, with both girls too aware of how hard Lexa was thinking, how much her mind whirred and hummed as it tried to figure out something that felt too big for her to handle.

“Lexa,” Clarke said, her voice cutting through the wind, “is everything okay?”

Lexa turned to her, finally, and looked at her with stormy eyes that rivaled the sky above them.

Clarke had never seen such a serious press to her mouth, such a deep curve in the furrow of her eyebrows.

“Is it Aden? Anya? Gus?” Clarke asked, her head lifting off her knee as she rattled through the immediate list of reasons she could think of. “Maybe you’re still hungry.” She said the last one with a hint of a smile, trying to draw one out of the too-serious girl next to her. When there was none, she continued.

“Acceptance letters? You know that they send out all the decisions at the same time so you’ll know when everyone else does.” She looked up as she racked her brain for anything else. “Is your hip bothering you again? Don’t worry, you’ll land the tandem throw soon, I know it.”

The words spilled out of her because Lexa was quieter than usual and her eyes were more serious than she’d ever seen them and it was worrying Clarke. She opened her mouth again to speak but was stopped cold when Lexa’s hand grabbed hers.

Her eyes bore into Clarke’s and for once, Lexa’s mouth was what gave away her thoughts.

“Go to prom with me.”

It was in that moment that the Earth decided to freeze. Both Lexa and the wind held their breaths as the words tumbled out, louder than expected as the air stilled.

Clarke’s heart thundered in her chest as Lexa’s declaration processed much too slowly in her head.

_Go to prom with me._

It surprised her how much the words made her blood sprint, her skin buzz in excitement. Her response was sitting heavy on her tongue, her lips slightly open as she tried to form the word.

But it was in that moment that the sky decided to open up and release the heavy promise of rain. The heavy drops were slow for a moment, but fell at an increasing pace and volume. They were the  kind that assured many more to follow, the kind that announced the impending downpour.

Both of them looked up at the clouds and before Clarke could get that damn word out of her mouth, Lexa jumped up and grabbed Clarke’s other hand as well.

“It’s about to pour, we have to go.” Her eyes were down and away from Clarke, her cheeks blazing from the burning weight of what she had said just seconds before.

Clarke let herself be pulled up by Lexa and ran in a daze to the car behind them. That was what this was—a daze—and she couldn't get her _fucking_ tongue to work and end Lexa’s agony.

She stopped then, halfway to the car with her feet still in the sand. Lexa noticed her stop and looked at her with confusion. She waved a frantic hand.

“Clarke, come on!”

“Yes.”

She saw Lexa freeze then. Her body flinch as she finally heard the word. Clarke needed to repeat it because she had waited too long to say it.

“Yes, Lexa. Yes.”

The rain started in earnest then, as if it had been waiting for Clarke’s response. It came down in sheets, in waves as if they had left the ocean and worked for the sky instead. They were drenched in just a few moments, but they felt like important moments as Lexa heard the word again and walked to Clarke.

As she stood in front of the blonde, a slow smile crept up her face. The raindrops fell from her hair into her eyelashes and down her cheeks and Clarke couldn't help but watch the slow procession.

“Yeah?” Lexa said, her tone quiet and light and so happy.

“Yes,” Clarke breathed. It was as if she couldn't say anything else after that one sentence. Words she hadn't realized she wanted to hear until Lexa said them.

Lexa’s smile grew even bigger then, her teeth flashing bright. Clarke laughed and looked down, eyes closed and head shaking slowly. Lexa was a surprise. She was a force that was completely unlike anything in Clarke’s life and she loved it.

“Just give a girl some kind of warning before dropping a bomb like that.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Lexa teased. They laughed, standing both too close and not close enough. Neither noticed that it was still pouring, that they were drenched to the bone.

Clarke thought for a moment, in that in-between moment where they were crossing the threshold into something more. Her voice was quiet when she spoke.

“Was that why you seemed so...conflicted earlier?” She took a breath. “Because you wanted to ask me to prom?”

Lexa considered her words and nodded.

“Yeah.” Her tone was solemn, but she grinned. “It’s kind of intimidating to ask out a god, Griffin.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, but felt herself flush. She couldn't tell if it was from the cold clothes that clung to her skin or the girl in front of her.

“Well, you did it and the world didn't end. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“For all you know, I could've razed the city to the ground if you said no,” Lexa said with a small raise of her chin. “Good thing I knew you'd say yes.” She smiled big and Clarke laughed.

“That’s a blatant lie and you know it. I don't think I've ever seen you that nervous before,” she said, stepping closer to poke Lexa’s shoulder. The new proximity was impossible not to notice. Clarke could see the light flecks of Lexa’s eyes, the freckles splayed across her nose, the dip that curved into her top lip.

“I was completely under control, Clarke. Never had a doubt.”

It was when Clarke felt the warm breath of Lexa’s words on her face that she couldn't ignore everything anymore. It was too much and and not enough and _dammit_ , Clarke was a god and gods did brave things.

So Clarke—who had finally acknowledged that she had fallen for the captain of the cheerleading squad—leaned in and kissed Lexa.

It was nothing more than their lips touching for a moment, but it was a big moment and they felt it in their bones.

Clarke pulled away slowly, her eyes opening even slower.

“Thank you for asking me,” she whispered. Lexa simply nodded and rested her forehead lightly on Clarke's.

“Thank you for saying yes.”

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell @ei8htballer on twitter & tumblr


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